


A Quest for Freedom

by aea2o5



Series: The Wars of Peteia [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Gen, Independence, Original Mythology, Peasants, Planar Travel, their friend was kidnapped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-03-27 06:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13875261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aea2o5/pseuds/aea2o5
Summary: The search for a lost friend sends a band of Girithite peasants on the path towards becoming heroes, with all the politics and bloodshed that come with it.(Set in Peteia, 1500s C.T., before Lond-Girith gains independence)





	1. Humble Beginnings

The year was 1520 C.T., not that the peasants working the fields would have known – or cared. All they know was that it was springtime, and that meant long days spent in the fields, preparing them for the planting. Spring was a beautiful season on the island of Akandi, which was the largest of the islands between the continents of Koriand’r and Zara. There were pleasant scents in the air, ranging from freshly turned earth to apple blossoms, and many others in between. The beauty of the island did little to reveal turmoil in the region, however. The Empire of Namfeld had controlled the entirety of Akandi for longer than most people could trace their genealogies. In the intervening centuries, a sizeable portion of the Girithite population was relocated to island, and they eventually coalesced in the eastern corner, the closest to their homeland on Zara. The upper reaches of society resented this, and forced the Namfeldians to put down several revolts in the region. Every few decades or generations, a group of hot-blooded young leaders would plot to overthrow their overlords, and each time they would fail.

All of this was quite far from the majority of the peasantry, who were concerned only with the cycle of the seasons and cared not for who collected their taxes (although they were certainly more hospitable to the tax collectors of their own culture). The cultural sentiment of the peasantry is largely a moot point at this moment. What _is_ important is that the peasants went out to the fields every morning and came back every evening. The wheel of time rolls on, with little care for who sits on the throne.

At this precise moment, however, the normalcy of agricultural life was shattered (as often happens in these tales). Three friends, working in the fields that surrounded their little hamlet – the name of which has never been recorded – were interrupted in their work by a fourth, who came running down the lane between the fields, shouting and waving his arms. The three looked at the fourth, the slightly pointed tips of his ears red, and slightly out of breath.

“What is it, Adrian?” Karina, the only woman in the group, inquired of the raven-haired half-elf.

Still gasping for breath, Adrian’s response was barely coherent. “Juliana… gone… house empty… struggle…”

“What? Speak clearly, man!” Vladimir, easily the largest of the group, demanded. He was the largest man in the entire community, a fact he attributed to being “big-boned”, but everyone knew it was due to an orc ancestor somewhere higher up on his family tree.

Adrian drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then began again. “I noticed that I had left my lunch at home, so I went back to fetch it. As I was leaving my house, I noticed that the doors to Juliana’s house were sagging on their hinges a bit. I took a peek inside and saw a great mess on the floor. There were large claw marks on the walls, as well, but no blood. Juliana was staying in today, because she has that nasty cough, remember? I looked around, and there was no sign of her anywhere, but her knitting needles were lying by her chair. You know, the ones she never leaves without?”

“Oh, goodness… Were there any clues at all to where she may have been taken?” Karina was distraught. She and Juliana had basically grown up in the same house, and the two were very close.

“I don’t know…” Adrian answered the brunette.

“It’s worth a shot, and I think we owe it to Juliana to at least take a look. We’re only helping in the fields for the season, so nobody’ll miss us if we take the day off to investigate,” Leslaw stated. He was the village handyman, and was always looking at the horizon as if it would draw close enough to him that he might seize it and make it his own. The others readily agreed, content to let someone else suggest the first step.

They returned to the hamlet – a journey of maybe a mile – and headed directly for Juliana’s house. They arrived there shortly before the lunch break among the workers, and ducked into the house, uncaring if anyone thought that they were skipping work.

A thorough examination yielded no clues other than the claw marks until, after nearly two hours, Vladimir found a circular black stone about a quarter the size of his palm (and about half as large as a normal palm) with a dagger engraved in it. The stone was jagged on one side, almost as if it had been broken. Vladimir held it up triumphantly, and the others crowded around him, gazing at the rock in his hand.

“What is it?” Adrian asked nervously.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think I like it,” Vladimir responded, his baritone growling uncertainly.

“Why don’t we take it to Pater Sobyskie? He knows about all sorts of symbols and stuff,” Karina suggested.

“Good idea, Karina,” Adrian said, and the four of them left the house for the shrine.

The shrine lay in the center of the village, and while it was not dedicated to any deity in particular, it was maintained and operated by Pater Sobyskie, who was a member of an order dedicated to Erathis(1). The friends found him watering the flowers that had blossomed beside the fountain, muttering what could only have been prayers as he went about his work. When he was hailed from across the courtyard, he looked up, surprised.

“Is there something I may help you with, my children?” He asked in his characteristic soft voice, cocking his head to the side in curiosity.

“Yes, please, Pater,” Leslaw began. “You see, Juliana has been taken. We’re not sure who did it, but we found this.” He motioned for Vladimir to procure the stone, and the lightly grey-skinned man did so.

Pater Sobyskie took the stone and rolled it around in his hands, looking at every possible angle. “My children, if this is what I think it is, Juliana is in great danger.”

“Why is that, Pater?” Karina’s voice trembled a little with fear, and nobody could count it against her.

“Because, dear child, this is obsidian, a stone that is formed by volcanoes, and the nearest one is in the eastern spur of the Iron Mountains, in the center of Koriand’r, which is very far off. I am not too certain about the symbol on the stone, because that could mean several things. Tell me, what else did you find, for that could help me to determine what the symbol means.”

“We didn’t find anything else, Pater. Only large claw marks on the walls.” Vladimir spoke again, and his voice had steadied a bit.

“Oh, I see…” Pater Sobyskie responded, appearing deep in thought. He nodded several times and then continued. “I think that this is a symbol of Niketos Phokaron(2).”

“Who?” Four voices met him with the same question.

“He is an obscure god, from my knowledge, but he is a deity of trickery and crime, which fits the job. Additionally, his symbol is a bloody knife and a sack of coins, and this knife is bloody. I imagine that if it were complete, the stone would also show the money.”

They crowded around Pater Sobyskie this time, and he pointed out what could very well be bloodstains on the dagger. Leslaw looked around at the group, and made his decision.  
“Gentlemen,” he began, then received a glare from Karina. “And lady,” he hastily added, “I think our decision has been made for us. My mind is made up, at least, and I would like for you all to join me. Juliana must be liberated from this foreign god, and we should be – no, we must be – the ones to do it.” Feeling a surge of pride, he raised his right fist into the air. “Liberty or death!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Erathis: deity of civilization and invention. Symbol: upper half of a clockwork gear. Popular among intellectuals; priests of Erathis are often found either in centers of learning or among the peasantry.
> 
> 2) Niketos Phokaron: Magikoi god of trickery and crime. Symbol: sack of gold beside a bloody dagger. Popular among Magikoi rogues, and among rogues who have had contact with Magikoi. One of his favorite pastimes is pretending to be his brother, Theodosios Megalarion, King of the Magikoi deities (he is talked about more in _The Chronicles of Andonikos_ ).


	2. Preparing for an Adventure

“No need to be so dramatic,” Karina giggled at Leslaw. “We’re with you, though,” she added, looking around at the others.

“Well, I can’t expect Pater Sobyskie to come along with us,” Leslaw replied. Then he saw the cleric shifting his robes a bit to reveal an axehead by his belt.

“I’m coming with you,” he announced. He held up a hand to silence the objections that were beginning to be vocalized. “The people here have had me with them for long enough. I will leave my writings here, so if anyone needs guidance, they may ask the village elder to read them. Additionally, as a true Cleric, it is my obligation to aid those who wish to thwart evil, which you intend to do.”

“I’m convinced,” Vladimir said, grinning.

“Besides,” Pater Sobyskie added, “who knows what sorts of people we will run into? I speak multiple languages, which should prove to be a great asset to our capabilities.”

“Another excellent point,” chuckled Adrian.

“Fine, fine,” Leslaw conceded. “We would love to have you come along with us, Pater.”

“Excellent! Now, if you would please be so kind as to step into my home, we can begin planning our journey,” Pater Sobyskie spoke firmly but warmly. The others readily agreed, and the five of them moved from the shrine to Pater Sobyskie’s house. He opened the door for them, and led them into the main living area, which was simply furnished with a few chairs, a table, and a small shrine to Erathis in the corner. Pater Sobyskie fixed something to drink – probably beer – and then sat down to plan their first move.

“Alright, so, all we know is that Juliana was taken by some trickster god, and that this god is not particularly well known,” Vladimir said, summing up the past few hours quite succinctly. “There’s not too much to go off of here.”

“Just how obscure _is_ this god, Pater?” Adrian inquired.

“Oh, very obscure. He is a god of a very rare peoples, called the Magikoi, and to the best of my knowledge, none of them live anywhere near here,” the cleric responded. “In fact, the only reason why _I_ know of his existence is because Erathis is a deity of knowledge, and so anyone who wishes to enter into Erathis’ service must know a great many things.”

“What sorts of things, Pater?” Karina asked, gazing intently at the comely little shrine.

“It depends on what you want to do, but for me, personally, I chose to learn a few languages and study the various racial pantheons, so that I would be equipped with knowledge wherever I might go, for all of civilization is under Erathis’ purveyance.”

“That’s all fascinating, but it doesn’t help us figure out what to do to rescue Juliana,” Leslaw said, trying to return the conversation to its original course.

“Yes, it does,” Karina informed him. “It’s quite simple, really. All we have to do – to start, anyways – is find these… Magikoi, you said?” Her statement turned into a question as she looked to Pater Sobyskie for confirmation. 

“Okay, so let’s assume that we decide to do that,” Vladimir jumped back into the conversation from the fragile-looking chair he was seated in. “How do we go about it? Pater Sobyskie did say that he doesn’t think that any live around here, which probably means not on this island at all.”

“To the best of my knowledge, no Magikos – that is, the singular form of Magikoi – has been seen on Akandi in at least a century. The vast majority of them live on Koriand’r. However, and this is very important to keep in mind: they look very similar to humans, so the reports could easily have missed one.”

“Alright, so we travel to Koriand’r. How?” Vladimir continued.

“I vote we try to get to the coast first, and from there figure out how to cross the water. Take things one bit at a time. For starters, at least,” Leslaw suggested, confident that the others would agree with his way of thinking.

Eventually, everyone else agreed with Leslaw, and the conversation shifted to other topics. When evening drew nearer, Pater Sobyskie sent the others to go collect food, clothes, and any other things that they might want with them while he prepared dinner for the five of them. The four villagers returned, each carrying everything they saw fit to bring, and the soon-to-be adventurers shared their first meal together, chatting about nothing in particular, subconsciously trying to stave off the feeling that their lives were about to be turned upside down, though they would never admit to that fact.

After they had dined, Pater Sobyskie cleared the dishes, then gestured for the others to follow him further into the house. The kitchen was attached to the main living area, so the other four had not been into any other areas in the cleric’s home. He guided them into the room furthest away from the front door, which, aside from a smaller door directly into the kitchen, was the only entrance into the building. Pater Sobyskie opened the door, and the others gasped in wonder when the veritable hoard of the materials of war came into view. None of them had ever seen so much metal in one place, and they were astonished.

In reality, the room was rather poorly equipped to serve as an armory, with a very limited selection available, but the cleric did not feel the need to bring this to the others’ attention. “Anything you want, you can take with you,” he said, ushering them into the room. “I already have everything I need, so it is all up for grabs.”

They thanked him profusely, then wandered around the room looking for something that caught their eye. Leslaw found a longsword – the only one in the room – and took it along with a shortbow. Adrian took only a quarterstaff, but was later convinced to grab a dagger, as well. Vladimir decided on the better-looking of the two longbows, and a handaxe. When the men had finished choosing, Karina shooed them out, then closed the door to select her own weapons in peace. She emerged a few minutes later with two daggers, a javelin, a shortsword, and the halberd that everyone had seen, but nobody had wanted to remove from the wall. The friends gaped at her as she walked through the doorway like a rustic goddess of battle, though she blushed at the attention and told them to stop.

“So, um… why do you have that stockpile in there?” Leslaw asked as Pater Sobyskie locked the door behind them.

“Because I wanted to be able to arm you guys with better stuff than farming implements in case the village was ever attacked. I’m glad that at least some of it will be put to good use now,” the cleric responded with a smile. “Now, shall we stay another night here, or shall we begin our adventure this evening?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure if this story will require a map. If it does, then I will create that as soon as possible.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think!


	3. No Longer a Farmer

It was decided that a good night’s sleep would be beneficial for the soon-to-be adventurers. They all found places to rest in Pater Sobyskie’s home, and though they all suffered (or enjoyed, in Adrian’s case) from nervousness and varying degrees of anxiety about their self-proclaimed quest, all four of the friends had realized that there was something new that had awakened inside them. Most of them could not have put it into words, but Karina, who, interestingly, was the least likely to spontaneously go on any sort of spur-of-the-moment adventure, managed to define it as a desire to do more in life than never see anywhere further than ten miles from where she was born. Granted, she tossed and turned for about an hour before figuring that piece of information out, but the lack of rest was worth it, and she knew it strengthened her convictions.

The next morning, the fourth day of the week, they set out, heading southeast, towards the nearest port city, and leaving a brief note for the village elder explaining their absence. Their plan was to buy passage to Koriand’r, and make their way to the Iron Mountains, as the obsidian stone was their only real lead, along with possible Magikoi involvement. It was a journey of two days to the city, and the first passed uneventfully, as far as notable events are concerned. They made camp in a copse of maple and beech trees, which are common in the area.

The next day, as they stopped for the midday meal, the intrepid rescuers were shocked when several burly men surrounded them as they let their guard down to prepare the food. They had put down their weapons, still unused to carrying them around everywhere, and had only a few daggers between the lot of them. The men surrounding the party wore the livery of a local Namfeldian noble. “Well, well, what do we have here?” One of them said, chuckling to himself and drawing his sword. “A gang of wannabe warriors and a beautiful lady! I have a proposition for you: you give us the girl, and we will give you all a job as men-at-arms for the great Count Sibillum, lord of everything that you can see around you. What do you say?”

Adrian, in his usual quick-tongued manner, replied with an idea of his own. “How about this: we keep the girl, and you leave us alone. Otherwise, we may be forced to visit you with some unpleasantness.”

Karina scowled, intensely disliking being dismissively referred to as ‘the girl’, but there was not much else that she could do. There were four men, each with arms and armor, and she doubted that her two daggers could do much before they were all killed. She started thinking of a way to turn the situation around.

Before the soldiers could respond to Adrian’s cheeky comment, Pater Sobyskie interrupted. “What my companion means to say is that we are on a sacred mission. I am a Cleric of Erathis, and it would be wise for you brave men to not stand in our way.”

“You don’t look like much, priest,” another of the soldiers replied. “I’ve heard of this… Erathis… Why don’t you show us your god’s power? Then we might let you carry on your way, with naught but a small fee for compensation.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Pater Sobyskie walked towards him, then beckoned the man to approach him. As soon as he was within arm’s reach, the cleric reached out and slapped the soldier across the face (he wore no helmet). The force of the blow was minimal, but the man fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Everyone looked at him in shock. The former villagers because they all knew Pater Sobyskie to be a truly gentle and soft man; the soldiers because a simple slap had reduced their comrade to a whimpering puddle at the cleric’s feet.

“My god is one of civilization,” Pater Sobyskie informed the mess at his feet in his usual, calm voice, “but even gods of building knowledge possess the power to Inflict Wounds. Let that serve as a lesson to you.” Concluding his admonishment, he stepped away and allowed the other soldiers to collect their friend.

While they were distracted in this way, however, Vladimir snuck away, grabbing the longbow he had taken as he went. Just before they had figured out how to deal with the man, Vladimir figured out how best to hold the bow, and launched an arrow towards the cluster of men. Being unused to the art of archery, he missed everyone in the area, sending the arrow between the legs of one of the men. Furious, they drew their swords and turned on Pater Sobyskie, who was still standing nearby.

After the first soldier reached him and slashed open the cleric’s forearm, Karina, having retrieved her halberd, attempted to drive them back. She stood behind the cleric, and jabbed her weapon at the nearest soldier. By a stroke of sheer luck, she caught his sword hand, slicing it clean off, although there was nothing clean about the wound, a nasty, jagged thing. That soldier howled in pain and ran off.

As Adrian and Leslaw took up their weapons, the remaining soldiers decided that it would be in their best interests to retreat, and they did exactly that. They abandoned their fallen comrade, and fled in the same direction as the now-handless first soldier. The rescuers had won the field, but most of the group looked uncertain about their stomach’s ability to handle what had just occurred.

“I think we should move on,” Pater Sobyskie said. “This fellow will regain his ability to do anything eventually, and those fellows might come back with more men. I imagine that they were press-ganged into service themselves, so we risk encountering better-trained troops if we remain here, as well.” The others readily agreed, and even Leslaw nodded queasily, all desire for food turned into an urge to do the opposite.

As they walked away, Pater Sobyskie laughed lightly at their nauseous reactions, saying “how does it feel? You’re no longer a farmer.”


End file.
